


Michelle Jones & Zendaya Works

by peterrrparkour



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Michelle Jones - Freeform, f/f - Freeform, fem!reader - Freeform, imagine, michelle jones blurbs, michelle jones oneshot, michelle jones x reader, zendaya fanfiction, zendaya imagine, zendaya x reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:29:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterrrparkour/pseuds/peterrrparkour
Summary: collection of blurbs/imagines--Michelle Jones x fem!reader--Zendaya x fem!reader





	1. Your Girlfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> michelle jones

Michelle scanned the party through narrowed eyes, shrugging off everyone her age drinking until they were even more stupid, if that was possible. Trying to refocus on her book, her eyes lingered on the living room couch despite her best efforts. Your shoulders shrunk deep into the cushions, as if you were trying to disappear completely. Even though your boyfriend slung his arm over you, it wasn’t loving, it was possessive. His thumb scrolled past message after message, all from other girls he continually claimed were “just friends.”

The lights were dimmed, music turned up so high the vibrations sept into your ears, making them throb. You stared blankly ahead at the swarm of teens dancing so close, spilling their colored plastic cups filled to the brim with repelling concoctions of alcohol and something else.

Michelle couldn’t tear her eyes apart from you, from your slightly trembling lips to the unnoticeable teardrop rolling off the side of your cheeks. You practically screamed lonely, and he didn’t even seem to care. She didn’t know much of you, but she already knew you weren’t like the rest. A pang of pity swept through her chest before she could push the feeling off; Michelle never liked revealing her emotions. Bringing the book up to hide her face, she finally dropped it back to her lap, deciding to give up on the complicated words altogether.

Nervous energy traveled to her shaking fingertips as she returned her gaze to the couch, your previously filled spot now empty. She flew to her feet, shoving past sweaty bodies to find where you had gone to. Catching a glimpse of your blush-pink sweater, her long legs rushed to meet you, even though she didn’t have a single clue of what to say. The bathroom door swung wide open, then slammed shut just as she reached the spot.

Pressing an ear to the wooden door, MJ could make out muffled cries and inward gasps for breath. She pulled away, feeling like an intruder as she turned around to leave you be, but her feet stuck to the ground, legs stiff and immovable. Sighing, she quickly spun on her heels, hand gripping the doorknob for a mere second before pushing the door open and slipping in. Your head jerked up as you leaned across the countertop, water pouring out from the sink to splash onto your flushed cheeks.

“Sorry I–I forgot to lock the door,” you stuttered, lifting your arm to grab for a tissue. Michelle dived forward, pulling it out of the box to hand it to you herself. Accepting the unusual kind gesture from her, your breath hitched as your fingers brushed against hers. She gently wrapped them around yours, giving your hand a gentle squeeze and a warmth wandered up throughout your whole body. Fist enclosing over hers, Michelle watched the way your chest rose up and fell back down rapidly, not sure of what that meant for the two of you.

In fear she snapped her hand back to her side, taking a giant stride backward, distancing herself from the way your touch made her heart beat faster than it should. The words tumbled from her full lips before she could hold them back and reconsider their weight.

“He’s a dick and I–  _someone_ , could treat you better than that,” Michelle blurted out, feeling paralyzed at her slip-up and hoped you wouldn’t notice. You definitely noticed, choosing to pretend you hadn’t to make the situation less awkward.

Your throat dried up, words sticking to the roof of your mouth like glue, and all you could do was bob your head up and down speechless. Frightened by the effect you had on each other, she nodded back before ducking out the door as quickly as she had came in. Sinking back against the wall, you slid down to the floor, picking up your hand to examine, the butterflies still tingling over your palms.

***

Stepping into english class, your eyes immediately fell on Michelle, cowering in a desk in the back row immersed in another thick book. She didn’t even blink as you slid into the desk next to her, just buried her face deeper into the crisp, white pages. A tiny frown passed over your lips until you forced the corners of your mouth up into a persistent smile.

A couple strands escaped her low ponytail, the brown curls falling over her face and covering up the smirk threatening to break free. Sensing the change in her emotions, you dragged the desk along the tiles to barely skim hers. She snapped the covers of the book tightly closed, tilting her head to the side to finally acknowledge your presence.

“I sit back here to get away from people distracting me,” MJ exhaled deeply. You chose not to let her comment phase you, and you scooted your legs to brush up against hers under the desk. To your surprise, she didn’t flinch away, even rested her knee on yours. Tipping forward, you tucked her loose strands behind her ear, using the opportunity to whisper into her ear.

“So you find me distracting,  _Michelle_?” you spoke softly, placing a sweet undertone on her name that sent chills down her hunched-over spine. Your fingernails rapped one by one in a rhythm over the top of the desk, the sound echoing in the space between you. Every other person faded out in the background, all you could concentrate on was the way she bit back her bottom lip to keep from blushing. A faint pink dispersed across her round cheeks, and a proud grin filled up your features.

Turning to face the front of the classroom, you tore a slip of paper out from your notebook and scrawled a quick message on it. Not meeting her eyes, you stuck it right in between the pages of her treasured book, excitement making your heart pound in your chest. Stealing a glance at her, she simply pushed the book to the edge of the desk, making your heart drop and she refused to return your look. Tapping the floor with the tips of your toes, you anxiously swiveled your attention back and forth between the front of the room and the note hanging out of the pages. Michelle knew what she was doing to you, and she loved it.

Finally, she nonchalantly removed the slip of paper, opening up the fold to read what lay underneath.

**_Can I distract you a little more after school today? -Y/N_ **

Michelle turned her chin to face you, instead of nodding a response like you hoped, she tapped her finger on the cover of her book, shutting down your courageous proposal. Eyes remaining glued to her, your mouth crept down into a pout, praying it would be enough to sway her. Her eyes flicked upward into an annoyed roll, yet she caved in, giving you a slight nod. She tried to play it off like no big deal, but the grin plastered on her face gave away her true feelings.

***

MJ watched eagerly as you paced around her room, marveling at the countless bookshelves stacked high with novels, packed so densely there wasn’t space to cram a single new book into them. Lining the sides of the shelves and any free wall space were random sketches, the edges torn and frayed, but the drawings incredible nonetheless.

She pulled her knees into her chest, hiding her sketchbook as her pencil flew over the paper in all directions, desperate to capture you in a rough sketch she could reminisce at later. Picking up on her secret drawing, you dramatically sprawled onto the foot of her bed, resting your head on your arms and fluttering your eyelashes at her. Michelle scowled to cover up the light, fluffy contentment building in the pit of her stomach.

“MJ, paint me like one of your French girls,” you giggled, a cute laugh gushed from her upturned lips.

Crawling up next to her, she let her legs extend out and she closed the sketchbook, casting it to the side of the bed. You pulled your sleeve over your wrists, exposing a patch of skin near your collarbone. Not thinking, she reached out to graze over your shoulder with the tips of her fingers, the friction soft and wholesome. Eyes widening, your forehead tipped forward, barely skimming the surface of hers. Her lips parted and eyelids fluttered closed, waiting for you to break the space between your lips.

A ping from your phone buzzing in your back pocket snapped you out of the dreamy haze, both of you jumped and you pulled it out to see a missed call from your boyfriend. Michelle read the notification, instantly she rolled over away from you, pulling her sketchbook into her chest for comfort.

“It’s him, better answer it,” she sarcastically spat, in an attempt to cover up the tears welling up in the deep corners of her chocolate brown eyes. Pressing your body against hers, you leaned over the top of her, a few strands from your hair draping over her waist. She snapped open her eyes, blinking repeatedly thinking she wasn’t understanding you clearly. Bringing your thumb to stroke the side of her cheek, you wiped away a stray tear and relaxed her worries.

“I’m not going to pick up the phone,” you emphasized, a pleased look passed over her face before she looked away, shrugging her shoulders up and down.

“Do whatever, I don’t really care,” Michelle’s lie rolled off the tip of her tongue, both of you knowing it was far from the truth. Rolling your eyes, you cupped her chin with in your palms.

_“For god’s sake MJ!”_

Her breath halted at your exasperated groan, innocently peering into your eyes like she didn’t understand the frustration. Not wasting another second to pretend, your lips crashed into hers, sending her head back into the pillow as she reached out to grip onto your lower hips. Chest to chest, heat spread from her heart to yours like it was a secret nobody else would need to know but you. Your fingers sensationally ran through her messy brunette curls, pulling her up to kiss you as close as she could get. Her lips faintly reminded you of the sugary taste of honey, the urge to lick your lips and savor the flavor felt surreal.

Another ring from your phone made Michelle lunge for the device hanging loosely out of your jean pocket. Switching the power off, she chucked it to the floor in a far corner, earning a laugh from your lips. She smiled widely with a hint of danger, with awareness of what was happening, yet not a care in the world. He didn’t deserve you, didn’t see the perfect Michelle saw the moment she laid eyes on you.

“You’re so much better than him, MJ,” you let slip, expecting to feel guilt but felt none. Being with her felt more right than anything else, more alive than you’d ever been with him.

“I know, now  _kiss me again_ , Y/N.


	2. The thought that counts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zendaya

“Z, can you– he… please I just really need you,” your voice cracked, cheek pressed hot against the screen of your phone. 

“Y/N, babe what happened? I’m already leaving,” Zendaya questioned, rushing over her place in a flurry, beyond worried by how broken your voice sounded over the phone. The muffled sound of your cries filled her ear, sending another jolt of fear through her heart. 

“It’s Tigger, I just came home and he was just laying there and I tried— I tried everything Z I don’t know how it even happened,” you cried, chin trembling as you quickly pressed your sweaty palm over your mouth to silence your sobs. Her heart broke at your words, feeling not only sorry for you but loss for Tigger, the most adorable cat she’d grown close to as well over the course of your relationship. Tears pooled in her eyes, flashing to memories of playdates with her dog Noon and Tigger, the way they’d chase each other around the living room carpet while you snuggled together under a pile of blankets. 

“No… don’t cry pretty girl I’ll be there soon, okay?” she cooed, already formulating the perfect plan in her mind to lift your spirits. You sniffled back a quiet ‘okay’ and hung up while Zendaya hustled around, shoving items in her bag along with an extra surprise.

Only minutes later, Daya burst into your apartment, eyes falling on you laying on the floor unmoving next to Tigger, still holding onto his paw. She slowly set down her bag, holding onto a leash, Noon running up to your side to cover your face in licks. You couldn’t hold back a small smile at his eagerness and her thoughtfulness. She soon followed after him, sprawling on the floor next to you as she pulled your body close into hers. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders gently, and you buried your face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her sweet cinnamon scent. Minutes ticked by, the steady thump of her heart and the slow rise and fall of her chest calmed your nervous panic. 

Zendaya ran her fingers through your hair, knowing you loved the feeling, that it soothed you, and your eyelashes fluttered shut at the tenderness of her touch. She leaned in to press soft, full kisses to your forehead , leaving a trace of blush pink lipstick on your skin. Your mouth turned up in a smile, pride and relief waved through her that she could comfort you in your time of need. She always made sure to treat you like a queen, a firm believer that all relationships should be equal in that sense. 

“Okay, I think I have something else that will cheer you up,” she shook you awake, hoping you would appreciate her idea. You perked up, nodding for her to continue. Lacing her fingers between yours, she stood to her feet, dragging you up with her. 

“Close your eyes, okay?” she whispered, grabbing your hands and placing them over your eyes, nervous excitement bounced off the two of you. 

“Open!” she yelled, whipping out a bag of cookie mix, and you had to stifle your laughs to not make her feel bad. 

“What? Chocolate-chip cookies are your favorite comfort food!” she whined, feeling like an idiot that she thought it would lift your mood. You stepped forward to squeeze her hand, giggles still escaping your lips, putting a smile on her face as well. 

“No, Z it’s not that, it’s just… you can’t cook, remember?” you smiled, a shocked, over-exaggerated gasp flew from her lips. She marched into the kitchen, dragging you along with her, searching through the cupboards for materials. 

“Where the hell do you keep the eggs!” she half-laughed, growing a little frustrated as you held back another laugh. Not answering, you sarcastically walked up to the fridge, dramatically gesturing for her to open it. Scowling, she rolled her eyes, snatching the carton out. 

You watched in amusement as she managed to get half the dough on her clothes and the counter, until she had a pan of roughly-shaped spheres randomly spaced together. Shoving it in the oven, she turned back to face you, annoyed at the smirk everpresent on your lips. 

“Did you set a timer?” you sneered, and she flipped you off, moving closer to you. 

“I can smell when they’re done,” she pushed off the subject, now right in front of you, leaving little space between you. Her hands snaked around your waist, lifting you up to rest on top of the counter. You leaned forward, cupping her chin in your hands as your lips met hers, a happy contentment you hadn’t felt in a while filling your chest. Daya nonchalantly slipped a hand behind you, reaching for something but you didn’t really focus on that, until she cracked an egg against the top of your head. Gooey yolk oozed down your forehead, little pieces of white eggshells caught in your messy strands. 

“You’re going to pay for that!” you screamed, jumping off the counter to tackle her to the floor. Rolling over, she got the upper hand but you wrestled out from under her, reaching for the carton of eggs with both hands. Grabbing as many as you could in the palms of your hands, you threw all of them at her chest at once and they splattered against her knit sweater. Egg whites dripped down to the floor, but it didn’t phase her. She grinned a wide tooth smile, and ran up to hug you, sharing the stickiness with you as if you would appreciate it. 

The bitter smell of burnt cookies dispersed through the kitchen, Zendaya’s face turned pale as she noticed. Flinging open the oven, she quickly pulled out the tray, a sling of curse words accompanied her movements. The cookies were charred black, looking like mini-hockey pucks stuck to the metal. Her shoulders dropped in disappointment, sad she failed at the one thing she aimed to do to cheer you up. Little did she know that she had already accomplished that the moment she stepped in the door. 

You rubbed a hand up and down her back, pulling her into you despite the fact you both were sticky and messy. 

_“Don’t feel bad, Z, it’s the thought that counts.”_


	3. The pier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> michelle jones

“Again, Y/N?” Michelle sighed, without even trying to cover up the growing smirk teasing at the corners of her smile. Arms pulled in tight around your shivering body, you peaked up at her through the loose strands that had fallen out of your flowing ponytail. 

Michelle slid across the board, inching closer as your feet dangled off the edge of the pier. She moved close enough that your thighs brushed up against each other, a tinge of warmth spread from the spot but you needed more than that. 

Your lips turned downward in a pout, pleading with her to wrap you up in her skinny arms. She tipped her head forward in a precious giggle, placing her thumb over the top of your bottom lip. Without really noticing, you crawled closer to her, swinging a leg over the top of her as her hands cradled your chin. Michelle, despite how unaffected she pretended to be, couldn’t hide the way her palms got clammy and her hands trembled when you were near. 

Soon you were in her lap, and you slipped your hands around her frame, finally settling on her back. Michelle tossed her thin, black cotton sweater over your shoulders, pulling on the edges of the sleeves to bring you in tighter to her chest. Strands of her messy brunette curls tangled with yours, trapping you into her embrace but you didn’t mind. 

Michelle made everything brighter, everything a bit warmer; she was your comfort blanket. You pulled up to her side, whispering in her ear like you were revealing a secret, even though you’ve said it a thousand times. 

_“I love you, MJ.”_


	4. No idea who I am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zendaya

“Excuse me!” you reached up on your toes to tap on the girls shoulder in front of you, looking back and forth between the bathroom and your watch. You knew you were going to be late to your morning class anyway, but whether that was 5 minutes or closer to 15 depended on if the girl in front of you let you slip past. She tossed her brunette spirals across her shoulderblades, shooting you a smile way too bright for 7 a.m.

“Oh, hi! Did you want to take a picture?” she sweetly sang, eyes flipping to your phone clutched tightly in your hand. You stepped back in surprise, pulling your belongings closer into your chest, a little weirded out by her strange response.

“No, um I don’t need a… picture? I just need to sneak past you cause you’re kinda— blocking the path to the bathroom,” you awkwardly explained, watching her face fall and her lips pursed together as she bobbed her head up and down.

“Cool, cool…” But, she still didn’t move and you shuffled back and forth on your feet, not patient enough to carry on a conversation with her. She seemed oddly familiar but you really didn’t have time to make small talk. You opened your mouth to speak again, but she cut you off.

“ **You have no idea who I am, do you?** ” she blurted out, her shy blush turned into a confident smirk, as if she somehow remembered her identity and was determined to make you aware of it as well. One eyebrow shot up and you stared back at her blankly, cocking your head to the side for her to explain her intentions.

“I’m Zendaya!” she finally broke the silence and awaited your face to turn up into a smile of recognition. But you still stared at her in confusion and decided against waiting in line and to just rush to class instead.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure you’re a very, um, nice person and all, I just don’t recognize you. I gotta go to class anyway, but it was nice meeting you…” you trailed off, already forgetting her name. Her jaw dropped, not believing this was really happening as she finished your sentence for you.

“Zendaya.”

“Right, right! Well, bye!” you stepped back and stumbled out of the coffee shop with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. The second you stepped outside you typed her name into Google, and thousands of pictures and descriptions of her countless movies, tv shows, photoshoots, and interviews filled your feed. Your heart sunk at the realization of how incredibly rude you must have come across, and you dived back in through the door.

Locking eyes with her, she smiled again, her fingers danced in a flirty wave as you rushed to speak to her again.

“I’m so so so sorry, I– I didn’t realize that…”

She reached out to grab onto your hand, and your jaw clamped shut in disbelief that her fingers were interlaced with yours. Zendaya opened up to you, extending her free arm out to her side, motioning for you to hug her and you immediately caved into her embrace. You sucked in a deep breath as her heavenly scent from the apple cider on her breath drifted into your senses. She finally broke apart from you but didn’t drop her fingers from yours.

“You had me embarrassed for a minute there, babe.”

 


	5. Soft & Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> michelle jones

“Can you show me your sketches from today?” you asked Michelle, looking up at her from your head nuzzled deep in her lap. She started to push off the bed, pressing the palms of her hands into the mattress to grab her sketchbook from her bag, when you reached out to clutch her wrist. She held her hand up in the air, your hand still tightly wrapped around her skinny wrist, questioning your grip.

 **“You’re soft and warm and I don’t want you to move,”**  you mumbled, pulling her hand back down underneath the layers of blankets to rest on your thigh. MJ rolled her eyes, a persistent habit of hers you wouldn’t ever want her to break because you loved the sarcastic girl with all of your heart. She sunk back down into the bed, running her free hand up and down your spine as you smoothly encircled your arms around her waist.

When you were together, you two either spent the whole time discussing random facts she read about or looking at drawings of people in crisis, which was basically anyone who caught Michelle’s eye. But sometimes you fell into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s warm cuddles, not feeling the need to speak.

“Michelle, tell me something nice,” you broke the quiet after a few minutes passed, and she cocked an eyebrow but shrugged, accustomed to your random questions at this point in your relationship.

“Well in the book I’m reading–”

“No, I meant about this,” you nodded your head to your legs intertwined under the blankets, “about us.” Her cheeks paled as she turned them to the side, too late to hide her shyness from you. It wasn’t that she wasn’t sweet and sentimental, she just had a harder time showing it than you.

MJ parted her lips, but no words came out no matter how much she wanted them too. Seeing her reaction, you shifted in her grasp, pulling your hands off of her waist to place a hand over her cheek. She visibly relaxed, and let her face fall into your touch as she gathered the courage to admit something to you.

“Can you not look at me when I say this?” she shakily asked, and you immediately nodded, burying your head into her soft cotton long-sleeve shirt.

“ **I love kissing you** , Y/N,” she whispered, hoping it would be quiet enough for you not to hear the words but still count as ‘something nice.’ But you couldn’t unhear them, five words replayed over and over in your mind, and you knew as soon as you got home you’d spend all night writing them in your journal so you’d never forget.

Another pause filled the space between you, as you listened to her heart beat rapidly and felt her chest rise and fall against the side of your cheek resting on top of her. You still didn’t flick your gaze up to meet hers, instead you moved your hands to intertwine your fingers between hers. When her heartbeat finally slowed down to a somewhat-normal pace, you raised your head, lips practically grazing hers.

“So kiss me, then.”


	6. ~home~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w/MJ

**~home~**

 

_ “Nothing here feels like home, crowded streets but I’m all alone.” _

 

You shouldn’t have came here. You’re not even close to Flash like you are with Peter, but he’s never around anymore and it felt so good to be asked to go to a party. To be wanted. To be appreciated. 

 

You didn’t argue when one of Flash’s friends slipped a plastic cup of some mixed drink into your hands and told you to drink up with a wink. It wasn’t even that strong, but the problem was you kept telling yourself that as you went for your second, third, and fourth cup. 

 

Sliding against the wall next to the bathroom, you pull out your phone and dial Peter’s number, the buzz taking away some of the guilt for probably bothering your best friend even though you knew he’d be busy. 

 

The phone rings once, maybe twice, then gets cut off to his voicemail. What else could you expect from him by now?

 

Peter sends you a text right away, saying exactly what you thought he’d say:

 

**_sry, Stark internship_ **

 

That’s what it always is now, and you’re so incredibly proud and happy for him, that he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves for being a genius, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less when you spend your nights alone that you used to spend with your best friend. 

 

Scrolling through your contacts, you analyze each name, questioning how much they really care about you to drop whatever they’re doing to pick you up. Your heart sinks in your chest when you realize that Peter’s your person, and no one else could fill that space no matter how much you wish they would. 

 

But what about…  _ Michelle? _

 

No, you’re not even that close. It’s one of those awkward situations where you’re nothing more than acquaintances, but both close friends with the same guy. The only time you had a conversation longer than two or three words was the day you got her number in the first place. 

  
  


_ Peter leaves his bedroom, going out to greet Aunt May as she walked through the front door to his apartment. You cringe when you notice that it’s just you and Michelle, sitting cross-legged on his mattress a few feet apart. When you came over unannounced, you didn’t think he’d have company since he’s … Peter Parker.  _

 

_ You bury your head in your phone, squinting your eyes and pretending to seem really focused on reading an imaginary message. It wasn’t that Michelle made you uncomfortable, she just seemed way too cool to ever want to be friends with you. She never spoke to you unless you spoke to her first, always kept her head in her sketches or behind the thick pages of a book.  _

 

_ “Here.” She breaks the awkward silence and leans across the bed to drop a piece of paper in your lap. You hold your breath as you pick up the paper and flip it around to examine the drawing. You can’t hold back a smile because you knew Michelle could draw--but not like this.  _

 

_ “I like to draw people in crisis,” she mutters, and your throat closes up at her words.  _

 

_ “But I’m not--” you begin, but she lifts her head back up and raises an eyebrow at you.  _

 

_ So she also thought this was awkward. Does that make it less or more weird? You drop your gaze back to the penciled drawing and release the tension built up in your shoulders, until you see some numbers scrawled in the upper right corner of the paper.  _

 

_ “What’s this for?” you lift up the paper so she can see and point to the corner with your fingertip. A blush momentarily spreads across her light-brown cheeks and she looks away from you so she can explain without having to witness your reaction.  _

 

_ “Jus’ my number,” Michelle mumbles, picking up the pencil and flipping to the next page. She goes back to ignoring you and leaving you more confused than before, and a few seconds later Peter walks back in with a smile.  _

 

_ You don’t know why, but you immediately shove the drawing underneath your legs to hide it from him. Peter would be thrilled to know you two were actually talking to each other, but part of you felt like the drawing with her number written boldly across it was something she wanted only you to have.  _

  
  
  


Your thumb wavers over the green call button; your inhibitions are down but you feel guilty about calling her. As soon as you’d gotten home from Peter’s that night, you put her number in your phone and typed out a text. A text you would rewrite a thousand times but never have the guts to send. Michelle had avoided you even more because of it and that only gave you more and more anxiety about never texting her. 

 

_ Calling Michelle Jones… _

 

Your heart races and you think that it’s not too late to hang up, but then she would notice a missed call, so you had to go through with it. The mix of alcohol and anxiety didn’t really go well and just made you feel nervous but unable to properly focus. 

 

“Uh, hello, who is this?” she answers, hesitation in her tone. You should just hang up and not say anything, she wouldn’t even know who called. 

 

“Heyyyy, it’s Y/N! I, um, yeah. Jus’ calling you cause you--I… don’t really know,” you slur your words together and cringe inwardly at the way they come out of your mouth. There’s a pause on the other line and you think she hung up on you until she cuts through the tension. 

 

“Calling cause you’re drunk, you mean to say.”

 

You hide your face in the palm of your hand to cover up your blush, not sure why because she can’t see you over the phone but it feels like Michelle knows you so well even though you know nothing really about her. 

 

“How--”

 

“I’m very observant,” she cuts you off, your turn to fall into silence. She makes it so hard to communicate, and you don’t get how she’s just another girl but makes you feel lost, disconnected, and tongue-tied. 

 

“I’m sorry it’s just that Peter’s busy, like always, and I don’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t even really wanna come here in the first place and now I can’t drive home… I shouldn’t have called you, I’m gonna just hang up now,” you conclude, taking the phone off your ear to hit the end call button. 

 

“Wait!” Michelle yells into the phone and your finger stops before pressing it. You lift the phone back up to your ear and wait for her to continue. “Just stay where you are, loser, I’m coming to pick you up, where are you?”

 

“Flash’s house, but you don’t have to do this,” you try to convince her but it sounds so weak. It’s obvious to you and to her that you want her to come more than anything. 

 

“Shut up, I’m on my way.”

 

“Okay,” you sigh, but she already hung up. 

 

Shoving your phone loosely in your back pocket of your jeans, you start to step back into the party to make your way out to the front. You trip over your feet and bump shoulders with people, murmuring light apologies under your breath. A circle of people block the path to the door and you start to turn to find another way out, but it feels like you’re trapped in a giant pit of bodies. Your head starts to spin and you suck in another breath to keep tears from falling. 

 

You just want to go home. 

 

“Hey! Have another drink,” a voice interrupts your thoughts from behind you, and an arms slips around your waist, tugging you into them. You look up and see the same guy from earlier who gave you your first drink, a wide grin plastered on his face. He pushes back hair that fell in front of your face but you liked it better that way, and you take a step back from him. His lips turn down into a confused frown and he takes another step towards you to cancel out the one you took. 

 

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shout up at him so he can hear and hopefully get the message. He quickly smiles back down at you again, pushing the cup towards your empty hands. In defense, you slip your fingers through the belt loops at the front of your jeans to avoid grabbing the drink. His cheeks tinge with red but he doesn’t give up on you yet. 

 

“Why are you saying no? I brought you a drink, so say thank you and take it,” he snaps, patience running thin. You turn your head to both sides, looking again for a clear path out but there is none. 

 

“I’m not thirsty.”

 

He lets out a sigh and tilts his head like he’s for some reason got the right to be annoyed with your right to make your own decisions. He raises the cup to your lips and starts to lean it so the liquid sloshes against your closed lips and you stumble back, causing the drink to spill all over the front of your shirt. His eyes light up as the material becomes more see-through and you need to get out of there, now. 

 

“She said she’s not thirsty, loser.”

 

Michelle pushes through bodies, making her own path, and reaches out her hand for you to grab onto. You practically jump into your arms and have the urge to kiss h--

 

_ What? _ You mean hug her, you wouldn’t kiss her… would you?

 

“Let’s go,” you hiss into her ear, but she doesn’t budge, her hands clench into fists at her sides as she doesn’t tear her eyes away from the guy. You rub circles into her back and her shoulders droop a little, and you pull her from the party towards the door. 

 

As you step outside and cool air sends your hair flying backward, you trip over the step and Michelle’s fingers dig into your hips to keep you standing straight up. 

 

“Sure you can walk?” she smirks, the same-old sarcastic girl you remember her being. You push her away just a little but she comes right back, walking you to the car and opening the passenger-side door before you can do it. You look down to see her hand is still in yours and you snap it back to your side, feeling awkward about the gesture that seemed more romantic than friendly. 

 

Michelle turns the key into the ignition and checks over to make sure you have your seat belt on, pieces of her curly hair drop from her ponytail and cover up the sides of her face. Minutes pass and the only sounds that fill the car are “turn left” and other miscellaneous directions from your mouth. At a stoplight, she drums her fingertips over the wheel and you can’t help but lunge over the seat to push back the free strands to get a better view of her warm-chocolatey colored eyes. 

 

“Thanks for doing this,” you whisper, still inches from her face, from her lips. She shifts her eyes from the street to catch yours, and there’s a softness to her that you never really saw until now. Her eyelashes flutter as you lean in closer to break the space between your lips; it’s almost so soft and gentle that it feels like you’re just imagining all of it. 

 

It’s all in your head--this can’t be real. But it is and you’re kissing Michelle-fucking-Jones and it’s like something you never knew you wanted until you have it. 

 

A car honks from behind the car because the light switched to green seconds ago. Michelle can’t look away from you and you don’t want to look away from her either if you’re being honest. Several cars follow suit and blare their horns, some even swerving into the opposite lane to pass you up. She clears her throat and snaps her head back towards the road, slamming her foot down on the gas. 

 

“Uh, my house is the second one on the left,” you mumble, and she doesn’t respond, only nods slowly. Michelle puts the car into park and takes her sweaty palms off the wheel to rub them against her thighs. You wait for her to something, your hand hovering over the door handle. After a few more seconds of silence pass, you bite your bottom trembling lip and pull down on the handle to step out. It’s her turn to lunge across the seat as she snatches your hand in hers. 

 

“I know Peter’s being stupid and everything but, I don’t know… We could hang out more?” she shyly suggests, and you feel an overwhelming wave of relief crash over you. You squeeze tighter around her fingers and bob your head up and down, forgetting to play it cool. 

 

“I’d love that, Michelle,” you confirm, heart jumping in your chest at the way she smiles back at your response. 

 

“Call me MJ.”

 

You bend over to press your lips to the back of her hand, a giggle escaping your mouth as you drop her hand to the seat and wave goodbye and shut the car door. You watch her pull away and hug your arms around your chest as you gradually walk backwards to the front porch. When you reach the door you slowly push it open, thankful the people in your house were sure to be asleep as you creep up the stairs to your room. Collapsing on your bed, you pull your phone out again and press down on her contact, editing her name to MJ and you put a little pink heart beside it. 

 

_ “Home. A place where I can go to take this off my shoulders, someone take me home.” _


End file.
